


The Nightingale, Quelled

by Deanna Pruitt (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-09
Updated: 2010-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Deanna%20Pruitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As mush as Sam wishes that Gabriel would be quiet once in a while, it worried him when the archangel actually did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nightingale, Quelled

As mush as Sam wishes that Gabriel would be quiet once in a while, it worried him when the archangel actually _did_. He can could the times he witnessed Gabriel not being his loud, boisterous self, none less disturbing than the next.

There were the moments after he was forced to slay angels of Heaven, his brothers and sisters; sometimes alone, other times alongside Castiel, Dean, Sam himself, or any combinations of the members of Team Free Will. There was that moments in Ilchester, Maryland, when and where they struck down the Morningstar together– casting him down into Hell from the Earth as he was from Heaven. There was the confrontation with Michael and the remainder of Heaven after countless millenia, there was the clash with Raphael and those who followed his still misguided ways.

There was the discovery that, after all was said and done, after _everything_ they – he – had been through, God still didn't seem to care enough to come back and _set things right_ (What good is the Messenger of God, when God is nowhere to be found?).

Each and every time, Sam would watch the archangel's expressive face freeze into a stone, neutral mask. He'd look on and see the emotion bleed out of his eyes until they were flat and empty, and feel something in his twist and coil until it was almost painful. There'd be no jabs at Dean's taste in music, no jokes about Sam's hair. There was nothing but silence; an oppressive silence that even Castiel find uncomfortable, and saw as unnatural.

And on each and every one of those nights, when Dean would retire to his own shabby motel room, Sam would reach out. Reach out for Gabriel, beckon to him; pull the archangel down into him as he stared back with cold, blank eyes. He'd rut and curl and arch and cry out, making him feel– making Gabriel feel with, _through_ him. Sam would emote for the both of them, until there was a spark, a flicker of that normal light came back to the archangel's eyes.

As much as Sam wishes that Gabriel would be quite on occasion, it worries, and sometimes scares him when the archangel actual does. So whenever he shuts down, curls in on himself and away from everyone else, Sam would do what it takes to bring him back.


End file.
